Chapter 15 up
“Are you sure you want to go to that event?”
The question sounded casual. But the way Selena said it—too quickly, too nervously—made Clark look at her.
“Why?” Clark asked.
Selena forced a stiff smile. “It’s nothing. I just… heard that Nyla was invited too.”
Clark paused for a moment. “And?”
Selena twisted her fingers together. “Vincent will be there.”
The name fell like a stone onto marble.
Vincent.
The wealthiest man in the city. Owner of a massive business empire, an investor whose single nod could change someone’s fate. A man who rarely appeared at social events unless something truly important was at stake.
And tonight—he was coming.
Selena swallowed. “I just don’t want things to get awkward.”
Clark didn’t answer. But inside his mind, Nyla’s name echoed again.
The hotel ballroom glowed with light. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, scattering golden reflections that made every guest look more refined than usual.
Nyla entered quietly.
She wasn’t wearing an extravagant gown—just a simple, dark dress. Her hair was neatly styled, her steps light but assured. She wasn’t trying to draw attention—and that was precisely why several heads turned.
“She looks… different,” someone whispered.
“More mature,” another replied.
Nyla didn’t care. Her gaze swept the room briefly, then stopped on a tall figure standing near a large window.
Vincent.
He didn’t need an introduction. His presence was unmistakable—calm, authoritative, and completely in control. His gaze was sharp, but not arrogant.
Vincent saw Nyla.
And for the first time that evening, his expression changed.
He walked toward her with a faint smile. “Miss Nyla,” he greeted politely. “At last, we meet.”
Nyla was slightly surprised but didn’t show it. “Mr. Vincent. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You’re younger than I imagined,” Vincent said lightly. “And far calmer.”
Nyla smiled. “Perhaps because I didn’t come here to impress anyone.”
Vincent chuckled softly. “An interesting answer.”
Their conversation flowed effortlessly—about books, about the city, about social initiatives—topics rarely discussed at events like this. Vincent listened. Truly listened. Something he rarely did.
Across the room, Selena stood frozen.
Her hands were cold. Her breathing shallow.
“Why is Vincent talking to her for so long?” she whispered, barely holding back panic.
Clark followed her gaze.
He saw Nyla—smiling softly, speaking calmly. There was no trace of a woman destroyed by gossip. No sign of the ruin he had imagined.
Quite the opposite.
“What are you afraid of?” Clark asked quietly.
Selena turned quickly. “I’m not afraid.”
But her voice trembled.
She watched as Vincent leaned in slightly, listening to Nyla with clear interest. His gaze—usually distant—held something else now. Intellectual curiosity. Respect.
Selena tightened her grip on her clutch.
No… this cannot happen.
She stepped closer, inserting herself with her most practiced smile. “Mr. Vincent,” Selena said sweetly. “I’m Selena.”
Vincent turned politely. “Nice to meet you.”
His tone was flat. There was no follow-up.
Selena tried to smile wider. “I’m… Clark’s wife.”
Vincent nodded briefly. “Oh.”
That was all.
No interest. No curiosity.
And somehow, that felt like a slap.
Nyla remained calm. She didn’t introduce anyone, didn’t provoke a reaction. She simply stood there—composed and dignified.
Vincent turned back to Nyla. “I heard you’ve been involved in several social projects lately.”
“Yes,” Nyla replied. “I want to build something meaningful. Not just something that looks good.”
Vincent smiled more openly. “We’re on the same wavelength.”
Selena couldn’t take it anymore.
“I’m sure Mr. Vincent is very busy,” she said quickly. “There are many important guests tonight.”
Vincent looked at her, then back at Nyla. “I manage my own time.”
The simple sentence shattered what little composure Selena had left.
Clark watched everything unfold. He saw Selena’s anxiety, Nyla’s calm, the way Vincent looked at the woman he had once ignored.
Regret tightened his chest.
“She’s changed,” Clark murmured without realizing it.
Selena snapped her head toward him. “What?”
“Nothing,” Clark said quickly. But his eyes were still on Nyla.
Not long after, Vincent said, “I’d like to continue this conversation another time—if you’re willing.”
Nyla nodded. “I’d be happy to.”
They exchanged contact information—brief, professional, without drama.
But to Selena, the moment felt like a warning siren.
As Nyla walked away, Vincent watched her for a few seconds longer.
And Selena knew—
She was losing something.
Not Vincent.
Not Clark.
Control.
That night, Selena sat in the car, her hands trembling. “She must not get close to Vincent,” she said softly, but with pressure.
Clark stared ahead. “Why?”
Selena bit her lip. “Because men like Vincent aren’t easily fooled.”
The words slipped out unintentionally.
Clark turned to her slowly. “What do you mean?”